Arboretum

Yet again the giddy sakuras drop their tender pink petals
Onto the furious lusty green underneath;
Trembling tiny leaves
Tender like the touch of a new-born baby
barely opened their translucent bodies
to the unfamiliar warmth.
A young couple lost their chaff of clothes:
in the brightness of this day they are two luminescent angels
completely engrossed by each other,
their light skin breathing warmth and
a slender hand unexpectedly traces
the slight depression of his chest.
Circles on the water
run from the bare feet
sending shocks and sighs away
like heartbeats among the creosote-soaked piles
rocking arrogant yachts in their white solitude,
still further,
where the wild ducks are courting each other
where the dead cattails, silvered by the frost,
fall in a jumble of slain stalks,
where the blackbird sends a high-pitched cry
to claim his territory,
crimson badge on his sleeve,
on a thin branch in the wind
dark, as a coal drawing, waiting for his mate.
The flight of a hawk cuts the azure space of the sky,
his shadow sliding along the bars of a joyful chorus
like a dramatic pause.
Pink petals in my hair, I stand at the gate of the fall